


Writing Exercises III

by Laura JV (jacquez)



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-12
Updated: 2001-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquez/pseuds/Laura%20JV
Summary: 10 short-shorts on the subject of fellatio.





	Writing Exercises III

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Writing Exercises III

## Writing Exercises III

by Laura Jacquez Valentine

Author's Website: http://www.dementia.org/~jacquez/writing/fanfic.html

Disclaimer: 

Author's Notes: I'm afraid I must blame Resonant.

Story Notes: 

* * *

21\. Kommunikation. 

(Kindly translated from the English by Fishstic.) 

Chicago Frauen sind sonderbar. Hubsch, aber sonderbar. Francesca Vecchio, zum Beispiel, verstehe ich einfach nicht. Ich kann kein Englisch. Sie spricht stundenlang und ich verstehe gar nichts. 

Ich kann kein Englisch verstanden, aber Krper verstehe ich. Sie hat mit mir die ganze Nacht geflirtet, und dann sind wir nach meinen Hotelzimmer gegangen. Wir haben mit einander geschlafen, die ganze Nacht, am nchsten Morgan ... ihr Mund ... er war so schn ... 

Sie gab mir eine Karte, darauf ihre Telefonnummer bei ihre Arbeit beim Polizei geschrieben war. Ich habe sie Blumen dort geschicht, und sie dort angerufen, aber wir konnten nicht mit einander reden. 

O, mein Krbischen, wie kann ich dir sagen, da dein Mund so schn auf mir war? Da trotz diese Befremdung, es is vielleict alles ... perfekt. 

Ich mu heute weggehen. Ich werd' zurckkommen. Vergiss mich nicht, mein Krbischen. 

(21. "Kommunication", in English: Communication. 

Chicago girls are strange. Lovely, but strange. Francesca Vecchio, for example--I do not understand what goes on in her head. I don't speak English, and so she talks and talks and I don't follow. 

English I'm not so good at, but bodies I understand, and she talked for a while and flirted and then, well, then we went to my hotel and we made love. At night, and in the morning, and oh, her mouth.... Sweet woman. She had a card that she gave me with her phone number on it, and where she worked--a police station. So I sent her flowers and called her but we could not talk to each other. 

Oh, my little pumpkin, how can I make you understand me? How can I make you understand that your mouth was so sweet on me and that despite all strangeness, this could perhaps be...perfect? 

I must leave today. But I'll be back. Don't forget me, little pumpkin.) 

22\. Sweet Caroline. 

Caroline, I hope it's not thinking ill of the dead when I dream of you the way I do. I don't think it is, but I sort of feel it's disrespectful. Still, it was a part of our lives, and I remember it fondly. How could I not? You were exquisite when we made love, Caroline, and there are a thousand nights when I've dreamt of you. 

I remember the time I swear we conceived Ben, when you clung to me so tightly afterwards, your entire body trembling, and you wept into my shoulder. 

I remember the time six months later when you curled on your side and pulled me in, wrapped your lips around my erection and looked up at me with laughing eyes. Your stomach was swollen with Ben and your cheeks soft with the weight you'd put on and you looked holy and unholy all at once. I'd never loved you so much as I did in that moment, looking down at you like that. 

I've never felt more like laughing in my life than I did just then, Caroline. So I hope you don't think it's thinking ill of the dead that I remember you that way. 

23\. Out of the Park. 

Ace. Ace Leary, homerun king. Ace Leary, sex machine. What I've found out is that girls really go for a guy who swings a mean bat. Which I now do, courtesy of Fraser's little "count the seams" routine and no mean shakes at undercover work on my part. 

Ace Leary could get six girls a night in this town, but Ace Leary was only interested in Toni Lake. 

OK, so I admit, the fact that she's a dead ringer for the Ice Queen had a lot to do with my desire to nail her. That was _not_ the issue. That was so not the issue, OK? The _issue_ was that she was _there_ and she was _hot_ and she was willing, right, which is more than me-as-me or me-as-Vecchio gets lately. 

So the Ice Queen thing was just icing on the cake, if you know what I mean. 

Anyway. Locker room, after the game, she walks in. I'm showering, and I hear the guys start to catcall as she heads straight on into the showers. "I want an interview," she says. 

"Buy me dinner," I say, grinning at her, not covering my dick this time. 

"Deal," she says. 

That was how it started. Interview and dinner somehow led to her on my lap with her tongue down my throat, and that somehow led to me and her on her couch with her mouth on my dick and my mouth on her pussy, you know, just one thing leading to another, the way things go. 

Like counting the seams on a baseball and hitting it out of the park. 

24\. On the Q-T and Very Hush-Hush. 

Agent White. Agent Exley. That's what we call each other, even in bed. It's all we know. It's all we care to know. 

That's who we are. Agent White, who's ticklish on his right side. Agent Exley, who's not ticklish at all. 

Agent White, who likes being blown in the shower by Agent Exley. Who likes feeling water stinging on his chest and Agent Exley's talented tongue on his dick. 

That would be me, Agent White; Agent Exley, I believe, vastly prefers the comfort of a bed when he's having his dick sucked. 

We know each other well, Agent Exley and I. 

25\. Body Language. 

Oh, I knew what he was doing. He couldn't have been any clearer about it. Sprawling on couches, smirking at me with his eyelids lowered, twisting himself into those I'm-available positions. 

And I have ears. I'd heard the rumors about Kowalski long before he came into the 2-7 as Vecchio. 

So I knew I shouldn't, because I'm his superior officer and hell, I'm another _guy_ , but I'm human. I took him up on it. 

More than once, as long as I'm being honest. Hell, the man knows what he's doing and he likes doing it, and I have to say it's a lot better than Mother Thumb and her four daughters. 

And the funny thing is, I always thought I'd look down on a guy who'd do that to me, but I don't. Kowalski's as much of a sarcastic badass on his knees as he is anywhere else. It doesn't change him any and I guess I never expected that. 

Guess maybe I should have, from his body language. 

26\. Compelling Evidence. 

My girlfriend got abducted by aliens once. She's OK, though, I mean really OK. They didn't implant an alien fetus or anything, which is good because we're going to get married someday. It has to wait until I finish my world tour speaking out against injustice in Myanmar. Have you heard what's happening in Myanmar? I'm booked in fifteen cities so far. 

Anyway, my girlfriend. She's beautiful, really beautiful, and I know I shouldn't tell you this but when we get it on we really get it on. She's incredible. Better than she was before the aliens abducted her--they were training her as a pleasure slave but I busted her out. The Department of Defense, they do _not_ like American women being abducted and so I got them to give me some tanks and some fighter planes and went in and got her. 

She's good. I mean, she's smart and funny and all, but in bed she is _good_. She does this thing with her tongue, like swirling it or something, and it just feels like your head is gonna come right off. And then she just...slides her mouth down, all the way down, and she swallows around my thing, and that's it, wowee. The aliens taught her that, I bet, because it's _inhuman_ , you know? 

27\. Hockey. 

Mark, stretched out on my bed, smiling at me. Mark, laughing up at me and rubbing Diefenbaker's ears. Mark, looking like he was thirteen again, skating circles around Ray. 

Mark, turning up at my door and kissing me like there was no tomorrow. Whispering into my mouth that he wanted me, had wanted me a long time, that I'd grown up beautiful. "You, too," I said, pulling his body against mine, and then we were done with talking. 

I slid my tongue along his, feeling it hot and wet and faintly nubbly. His teeth were slick and his skin was warm and his hair prickled and rasped against my palms. I let go of him to press one hand against the front of his jeans, feeling the erection underneath through the denim. He put his head on my shoulder and moaned into my neck when I unbuttoned and unzipped him and wrapped my fingers around the hard veined shaft of his penis. 

I walked him backwards to my bed and pushed him down on it, stripped him and myself and moved between his legs. He began to shake when I slid one spit-slick finger inside of him and then took his erection in my mouth. He tasted like sweat and skin and smelled like sweat and ice and cotton. 

I remembered so many things: pond hockey when we were boys, the pretended indifference in his eyes when we met again a few weeks ago, straddling him in the snowbanks of Inuvik and hitting him after he tripped me with his hockey stick, the warm affection in his voice when he told me he'd recognized me. 

I pressed a second finger inside of him, dry, and he cried out and came, hard, into my mouth: a new memory of Mark. 

28\. Show and Tell. 

I must be crazy because I'm talking to a wolf. Do not look at me like that, Dief; you know perfectly well--hell. You're more people than a lot of people. I get why Fraser talks to you. So I guess he's told you that him and me, we got together? 

Yeah, I guess he would have. He wouldn't leave you in the dark. 

So, you're cool with it? I mean, I don't want you to feel like a fifth wheel or anything. 

Cool. The mouth thing--oh, blowjobs. Yeah, humans do that. Well, you can lick yourself, right? Most humans can't, so we like to have other people do it. 

The ones who can usually end up in gay pornos. 

Yeah, I got a few. You want to watch one? 

See, that guy? I mean, that can't be comfortable. Much better to have someone else do it. Like, say, in this scene here. 

Fraser! Oh, just explaining blowjobs to the wolf. Hey Dief, want a live demo? 

29\. Morganatic. 

I don't pretend to myself. Bob's a wonderful man, and he cares for me a great deal, but he's still in love with Caroline. And I'm still in love with Matt. Ellen Stern, I tell myself every day, this is just the way it is. You have Maggie, and Bob is sweet to the both of you. You love your daughter and you never tell her or Bob Fraser who her father really is. 

I think Bob wonders sometimes why I've taken to loving him with my mouth instead, but he doesn't ask. I'm sure that he finds it reasonable--I have a young child and don't want to be raising two children on my own. Oh, he'd marry me if he knew Maggie was his, or if he knew I'd conceived any child by him. He'd marry me and be as faithful as ever he was to Caroline, and I'd be as faithful as ever I was to Matt. I'd raise her son as if he were mine, but I'd never pretend that I didn't see her wavy brown hair or her sweet mouth when I looked at him. 

So I'm sure Bob knows why I do what I do, why I take him in my mouth and love him that way. He wants no replacement for Caroline. And to be honest, I want no replacement for Matt. 

30\. Matched Doubles. 

I've been married twice, both times to men named Ray. It's funny when you think about it. I still have my first husband's name--it's the name I had when I finished law school and to be honest, I don't want to give it up. Just because I'm married to Ray Vecchio now doesn't mean I was never married to Ray Kowalski. (That was a fight. I wouldn't get an annulment so that Ray and I could have a Church wedding.) 

It's been an interesting change. Ray's--my first husband Ray's--parents were stubborn about odd things, so he wasn't cut. Circumcised, I mean. His mother told me once that she screamed her head off at the doctors to leave her baby alone or So Help Me God. They listened to her, and I don't blame them. Barbara Kowalski could be a holy terror. 

My second husband Ray is cut. It's different. The skin moves around less, which makes some things easier--I don't worry as much about accidentally pulling too hard and ripping things, although that _never_ happened--and some things harder, like getting him off with my hand. And it changes the taste. Even when my first Ray was just out of the shower, he tasted stronger, more musky. It was part of this whole weird-sexy-geek thing he had, just one more weird thing about him. My husband now, he always tastes sweeter, more like skin, and the flavor builds up as he gets more and more turned on. 

It's so wonderful to feel that, to be able to taste and smell him getting into sex like that. 

Ray and Ray. I couldn't really face staying in Chicago and being married to a Ray that my first husband had been undercover as--that was too weird. So we moved to Florida. My first Ray, I heard, has moved to Canada with Constable Fraser. I heard they're involved. You know what's funny? My maiden name--it was Fraser. 

* * *

End


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